CHAPTER SEVEN
I found Dane licking his wounds in the casino. He
didn’t look happy.
"You know anything about snakes?" I asked.
"You mean other than what I just learned from your
friend, Miranda, back there?" He hooked a thumb over his
shoulder. "Are you sure she doesn’t crawl on her belly and
live under a rock?"
"Well, I don’t know about living under a rock, but one
time she decided to live in a mud hut on the beach next to
the Santa Monica pier. Something about showing the world
the plight of some obscure tribe of cannibals in the
Amazon."
"She would like cannibals. I bet she’s still chewing on
the hunk she took out of my ass." Dane threw a quick look
over his shoulder toward the lobby. "I hope she chokes on
it."
"You’re a big boy. I’m sure you’ll find a way to get
even." And I wanted ringside seats. I grabbed his hand
and tugged him with me as I headed for the
elevators. "Right now we have a more pressing problem.
What do you know about real, slither- through-the-grass
snakes?"
We skidded to a stop in front of the elevators. I
punched the up button. Reluctantly I let go of Dane’s hand.
"What kind of snake?"
"How the heck should I know?" The elevator hadn’t come
so I punched the button again, then again and again.
"Punching the button a zillion times won’t make it come
faster," he said.
"Maybe not, but it makes me feel better. I’d take the
stairs but we’re going all the way to the top." I turned
and looked at him. "You haven’t answered my question.
What do you know about snakes? I can do rodents, but I’m
not well versed in reptiles."
"We had an annual rattlesnake round-up back in my
hometown. I participated a couple of times until a buddy
of mine got bit and damned near lost a leg. Does that
help?"
"It’s better than nothing." The elevator door finally
opened, and I dodged the people trying to get off as I
pulled Dane inside. I inserted my card in the slot and
punched the button for the Penthouse floor.
"So where’s the snake?" Dane asked after the doors had
closed and we’d started skyward.
"In Mr. Ballantine’s suite."
"Ballantine? You sound like you know this guy."
"Oh yeah." I crossed my arms and leaned against the side
of the elevator. Just thinking about Mr. Ballantine set my
blood to boil. "Our first meeting concerned cockroaches.
Now it’s a snake. He’s moving up the food chain."
Dane chuckled, "You gotta tell me about the cockroach."
"Cockroaches, plural. Hundreds of them."
"I think I’m going to like this story."
"Are you familiar with the hotel rating system?" At
Dane’s affirmative nod, I continued. "Like all top hotels,
the Babylon jealously guards its rating. We opened at the
top of the heap, and we intend to stay there." The
elevator slowed its ascent, then dinged its arrival at the
fifty-second floor. "Some of our guests try to blackmail
us by doing things that might threaten the rating."
"Blackmail? How?"
We stepped out of the elevator and turned right, heading
for the King David suite. "They stage some unpleasantness,
then threaten to report it to the rating services unless we
pay for their room and whatever."
"Hence the cockroaches."
"Five star hotels are not infested with bugs."
"But they could be," Dane said. "How did you know it
wasn’t legit?"
"The bugs were technically water bugs, indigenous to the
coastal states. They couldn’t survive in the desert. They
were brought in and planted in that room. I could have
wrung Mr. Ballantine’s neck, but I stifled myself. This
time, he may not be so lucky."
"So we’re on our way to a potential homicide?"
"Don’t encourage me," I said as we rounded the last
corner. "He’s one of the few people I’d like to meet on
the edge of a cliff with no witnesses."
"Remind me not to get on your bad side."
Three big, tough-looking security guys were standing
outside Mr. Ballantine’s suite peering in through the
doorway when Dane and I arrived.
"It’s got Denny," one of them said when he caught sight
of us.
Dane and I pushed past the guards. What we saw stopped
us in our tracks.
"Holy Shit," Dane mumbled.
In the middle of a beautiful, hand-knotted, silk Persian
carpet, writhed one of our security guards, presumably
Denny.
Wrapped around his middle was the largest snake I had
ever seen.
The thing looked to be every inch of twenty feet,
although it was hard to tell. It had already circled
Denny’s waist twice and was going for a third coil.
"Get this thing off of me!" Denny grunted. "I can’t
breathe!" He looked a little blue.
I grabbed the nearest guard and pointed to his
gun. "Give me that thing."
Wordlessly he handed it over.
"Dane, grab the snake’s head and hold it still." I
ordered as I chambered a round and made sure the safety was
on. "Everybody back."
Dane dropped to one knee and grabbed the reptile’s
head. Muscles bulging, he wrestled with the thing as it
writhed. Twice he lost his footing.
I tucked the gun in my belt, shouldered-in next to Dane
and grabbed the snake with both hands. Finally, the two
of us managed to pull the writhing body away from Denny
just enough. Dane put his knee on the snake holding its
head to the floor. "Hurry," he growled through gritted
teeth.
I let go and grabbed the gun. Thumbing off the safety,
I pressed the barrel to the snake’s head. I shut my eyes
and pulled the trigger.
The recoil knocked me on my ass.
For a moment time stood still.
I was still deaf from the report when I opened my eyes.
Breathing heavily, Dane knelt on hands and knees, his head
hanging between his arms. Denny pushed weakly at the now
inert body of the snake.
I crawled over to him, grabbed the slippery beast and
tried to move it. Dead weight, the thing weighed a
ton. "Help me here," I said to Dane.
It took us a couple of minutes to unwrap Denny.
"You okay?" I asked him as he took deep, measured,
lungfuls of air.
He nodded.
Dane stood, then grabbed my hand and pulled me to my
feet. We escorted Denny to the gaggle of security guards
who still filled the doorway. One took Denny’s arm.
My Nextel vibrated at my hip. I grabbed it. "What?"
"I got reports of gunfire on one of the upper floors in
the north wing," Jerry stated rather matter-of-factly as if
gunfire erupted in the hotel every day. "You know anything
about it?"
"Yeah, it was me."
"You?"
"Yeah, me. I pulled the trigger."
"Cool. Who’d you shoot?"
I turned and surveyed the room through slitty
eyes. "Nobody…" Ballantine lurked in the far corner
behind a chair that looked like King David’s throne. The
minute I saw him, my blood boiled over, my temper erupted,
and I could almost feel his spindly little neck in my
hands. "Yet."
I dropped my Nextel in my pocket as I stormed toward
Ballantine.
The creep shrunk behind the chair.
I was a few feet from him when Dane grabbed my arm,
pulling me to a halt. "Whoa there," he whispered in my
ear. "He’s not worth it."
Ballantine peeked around the edge of the chair.
I felt like making a lunge for him, but common sense
slapped a lid on my temper. I straightened, threw my
shoulders back, and slowly smoothed my dress. I took a
deep breath, then blew several strands of hair out of my
eyes. I stepped away from Dane.
He let me go but stayed close. I guess he was worried
my temper might erupt again. He needn’t have worried.
Past getting mad, I was well on my way to getting even.
Ballantine shrank back.
I crooked a finger at him. "Come here, little man." I
waited until, visibly shaking, he stood in front of me,
staring at his toes. "What kind of snake was that?
"Anaconda."
"Where on earth did you get it?"
"From a guy I know here in Vegas."
"How’d you get it into the hotel?"
"In a trunk. It took three bellmen to get it on the
cart." A tinge of pride crept into his voice.
For a moment I saw red again. Dane must’ve sensed it.
He grabbed my arm, but I shook him off.
I leaned down and put my mouth next to Ballantine’s
ear. He flinched but stood his ground. "Listen to me and
listen good. Pack your things. Stop at the front desk and
pay your bill, which will be large as it will include
damages for this attempted extortion." I lowered my
voice. "Then get the hell out of my hotel. If you darken
my doorway again, or if I get even a hint that you have
said anything unsavory about this hotel or any of its
employees, I will hunt you down myself. And when I’m
through with you, I will personally deliver your sorry
carcass to the police."
Ballantine visibly paled.
"I don’t think you’d like being a boy-toy for some lifer
in the State Pen." I turned on my heel, shouldered past
Dane, then retrieved the gun from the floor where I had
left it.
At the doorway, I slapped the gun in the chest of its
owner. "Why do you carry this thing if you’re afraid to
use it?"
The guard grabbed the gun with both his hands and stared
at me like I had two heads.
"Men," I muttered as I stalked off down the hall.
#
My phone rang as the elevator doors opened, and I
stepped into the lobby. I glanced at the caller’s number.
I flipped the phone open, pressed it to one ear and stuck a
finger in the other. "Mother, aren’t you in Carson City?
I’m really busy."
"Too busy for your mother?" Her tone was colder than ice.
I took the finger out of my ear. That single phrase
told me there wasn’t going to be much about this phone call
I wanted to hear. "Mother, contrary to what you may think,
the earth does not stop rotating when you call. This is a
bad time." Why I let her punch my buttons, I don’t know.
"Sweetheart, with that attitude, you’re going to grow
old by yourself."
"That’s not looking like a bad option right now."
"If you run off that nice Mr. Dane…" Clearly the
concepts of bad timing and non-receptive audience were lost
on my mother.
"Mother, if you called to talk about my love life, this
is not a good time."
"What love life?"
I sighed and counted to ten. As I counted, I watched
the people milling around the lobby. Did any of them have
a mother like Mona? If they did, maybe we could form a
support group. The first session could deal with
overcoming thoughts of matricide. "Mother, is this really
why you called me?"
"Of course not."
I waited, but she said nothing. She was waiting for an
apology, and the only way to get her off the phone without
hanging up on her was to give her one. I guess I had been
a bit harsh. "Sorry, Mother. What can I do for you?"
"I only have your best interests at heart."
"I know."
"Why do we take our frustrations out on each other?"
An interesting observation from my mother.
"Because it’s safe."
"That must be it." Mother paused for a minute. I could
almost hear her thinking. "Lucky, sweetheart, the reason I
called is to tell you that the man Lyda Sue met at my place
is no worry of yours. He had nothing to do with her
falling out of the helicopter."
"Well, that’s a relief." Sarcasm crept into my voice,
but I didn’t care. "How do you know?"
"I just know."
"I’m sure that will be compelling testimony in a court
of law, Mother." I knew what was coming next. I could
read my mother like my dog-eared copy of Atlas
Shrugged. "You’re not going to tell me who she met, are
you?"
"Honey, it’s not important. He’s not involved."
"You’re withholding evidence."
"You’re not the police, and, if it’s any consolation, I
wouldn’t tell them either."
"Mother, you can be mean and really, really irritating,
but you’ve never been stupid."
"I knew you wouldn’t like it, but you’ll have to trust
me on this one, dear."
"So why did you call if you weren’t going to tell me
anyway."
"I want you to be careful, that’s all."
"That’s not all, Mother, we both know it."
Sorry I’d apologized to her and more than a little
pissed, I snapped my phone shut. I’m supposed to trust
her? What about her trusting me? And she was willing to
stonewall the police for this mysterious guy. Why? Who
could she care about that much?
In a blinding flash of unusual introspection, I realized
one very sad and unsettling thing—while I could read my
mother like a book, I didn’t really know her at all.
My Nextel vibrated. "What?" I practically shouted into
the device.
"I heard you shot somebody." Miss Patterson had the
annoying habit of making an announcement sound like a
question.
"Something, not somebody, although the day is still
young."
"Before you pull the trigger, think of me. I’m just
getting you trained. It would be such a pain to break in a
new Head of Customer Relations." I heard the smile in her
voice.
"I’ll keep that in mind. I’m in the lobby ready to
greet the Trendmakers."
"Got it. I didn’t have anything else beyond wondering
whether I needed to find you a good defense lawyer."
"An oxymoron, if not an impossibility." I said as I
shut the phone, proud of myself for resisting the
temptation to toss the thing into the trash and bolt out
the front door screaming. Instead I re-hooked the device
at my waist, arranged my features in what I hoped was a
pleasant expression, and girded myself for my next task.
Truth be told, the Trendmakers made me nervous.
I watched them as they arrived to check in at the
special desk set up for them in the far corner of the
lobby. Short ones, fat ones, tall ones, skinny ones, the
Trendmakers came in all shapes and sizes. It was like
watching middle-class America coming to Home Depot for a
gallon of paint. But they weren’t coming to Home Depot.
And they weren’t coming for paint.
They were in Vegas for a weekend of casual sex with each
other’s spouses.
And they didn’t care if the whole world
knew. Well, some of them didn’t care.
As I watched them, I wondered who was sizing-up whom,
and for what. Who had already slept with whom? Were they
back for more of the same, or did they want fresh meat this
time around? Images chased through my mind. How could
they stand there talking to each other as if they were
bridge players attending their annual convention?
A few moments of that line of thinking was all I could
stand. I needed a drink. After greeting the Trendmakers,
I was heading to Delilah’s for some personal time with a
bottle of Wild Turkey.
I plastered on a smile and started toward the
registration table. A tap on my shoulder stopped me.
"Ms. O’Toole?"
I recognized the voice that came from behind me. I
turned. "Jeep. How are you?"
The Most Reverend Peterson J. Peabody loomed in front of
me blocking the light, but his smile shed a light of its
own. "Fine, doing much better, thank you. I’d like you to
meet the Missus." He pulled forward a small lady with a
cropped hair-do and big eyes. Her smile was almost as wide
as her husband’s. Thankfully for the Mrs. Most Reverend,
that was the only thing about her as wide as her husband.
"Nice to meet you," I said.
She grabbed my hand in both of hers and looked at me
with those big eyes. "Thank you so much for taking such
good care of my husband last night."
Last night? Had it really only been last night? I felt
like I’d aged ten years since then. "That’s what we’re
here for." My voice sounded stiff even to me. As I stood
there, my hand held tightly in hers, I couldn’t help
wondering whose husband she had picked to start her weekend
with. Did she like them older, or younger? Fat or buff?
One at a time, or two?
I really needed to get a grip.
"Would you care to join us tonight?" Mrs. Peabody
asked. "A group of us are going to Carne for drinks and
dinner."
I extracted my hand. "Thank you, you’re most kind, but
I’m afraid I can’t get away." I made a sweeping motion
with my arm. "As you can see, things are a bit crazy here
today."
"I can see that." Her smile lit her eyes. "But, if you
change your mind, we’d love to have you."
I shivered. Coming from her, that innocent phrase took
on a whole new meaning.
#
Forty-five minutes of meeting and greeting the swingers,
directing them to the corner of the bar where libations
would be served, and I was more than ready to drown myself
in that bottle of Wild Turkey. I sidled onto the last
remaining stool at Delilah’s.
"The usual, Ms. O’Toole?"
I looked into the smiling eyes of Sean Finnegan, one of
our head bartenders. "Make it a double and if you put more
than one very small cube of ice in there, I’ll come across
this bar and strangle you myself."
"Good day, huh?" Sean and I went way back. He liked to
tell people, women in particular, that he was Black Irish.
I guess they found that sexy or something, I don’t know.
What I did know was Sean’s name wasn’t Finnegan, it was
Pollack, and he was from New Jersey, not the Emerald Isle.
We all had our little secrets.
"Terrific,"I growled. For some reason, I had a burr
under my saddle, and I couldn’t figure out exactly why.
Cupping my hands around the double old-fashion glass
Sean set in front of me, I swirled the amber liquid and the
one lonely ice cube around in the glass. Normally, I could
blow through a day like to today and not be phased, but for
some reason I felt out of kilter, not myself. Surrounded
by people, I felt strangely alone, disconnected.
"I’ve heard of people trying to divine the future from
the leaves at the bottom of a tea cup," Teddie said as he
appeared out of nowhere. "But never from a glass—a very
large glass, I might add, of Wild Turkey."
He sounded way too chipper for me to deal with right
now. "Go away."
He leaned in and shouted down the bar. "Hey, would you
guys mind moving down so I can sit next to my lady here?"
I felt all eyes turn my way. Terrific. Now I was the
center of attention—just what I wanted.
After much grumbling and scrambling about, everyone
moved down one seat, leaving an empty stool to my left.
Teddie straddled it.
I felt the reassuring warmth of his shoulder next to
mine. Grudgingly, I had to admit, cheery mood and all, it
felt good to be with Teddie. It always did. Especially,
like today, when he was just Ted and not wearing a dress
and my high heels. "I think I’m supposed to be mad at
you."
"Moi?" He feigned innocence. "What did I do?"
I tried not to smile at his big blue eyes and
exaggerated expression. When he was just Ted Kowalski he
was damned attractive. He still wore his torn Harvard
sweatshirt and a pair of faded jeans that were just tight
enough to spark interest but still leave a lot to the
imagination. A hint of Old Spice aftershave wafted around
him. I liked that—so old school.
"Nothing, really." His crack about losing my smile had
stung. As they say, the truth hurts.
"I have your best interest at heart." So he knew. He
draped his arm around my shoulders and pulled me a bit
closer.
"You’re the second person who told me that today," I
said, enjoying the feel of his arm holding me.
"Who was the first?"
"Mother. Right after she stuck a knife in my back."
"Your mother is a piece of work."
"That’s putting it mildly." I pushed the drink away. I
didn’t want it anymore. "But you know the weirdest
thing?" I leaned against Teddie. Solid, and male, he felt
safe—and not a bit like Cher. "She’s my mother and I don’t
even know her, not really. You know what I mean?"
"People build walls. Vegas can do that to you."
I thought about that for a moment. "Do I do that?"
He took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. "Honey,
you learned at the foot of the Master. Mona is the most
isolating person I know."
"But I have a ton of friends."
"You have a few friends and you keep us all at a safe
distance."
"That sounds so sad." I didn’t want to be the gal
Teddie described. "I must not be a very good friend, then."
"Well it wouldn’t hurt if you took a couple of rows of
bricks out of that wall."
"I have no idea how. You help me, okay?"
"Your wish is my command."
We both said nothing, letting the noise of the bar close
in around us. Tired of resisting, I let my head rest on
his shoulder. I didn’t want to think about building walls,
tearing them down, keeping people out, or letting them in,
but those thoughts buzzed around the edge of my
consciousness.
"So how many years do you have to go without sex before
they declare you a virgin again?" I mused aloud.
"What?" Teddie dropped his arm and leaned away to get a
better look at me.
I darn near fell off my stool.
"Well." I pushed myself back upright and refused to look
him in the eye. "I read somewhere that if a person hadn’t
had sex in ten years, then that person could be declared
some sort of a de facto virgin again."
He looked at me aghast. "Why would anyone want that?"
He made becoming a virgin again sound as appealing as
contracting the Ebola virus.
"I’m serious. I was just wondering about the ten year
thing." I thought back to the last time I’d had sex. I
wasn’t close to the ten-year mark. Well, not perilously
close anyway. I’d worked hard enough to lose my virginity
the first time, I didn’t think I needed to push through
that barrier again.
Teddie said nothing for a moment, and thankfully he
didn’t laugh—or ask me how long it had been. Finally, he
took my hand in his and looked me in the eye. "If you want
to have sex, all you have to do is ask."
I snatched my hand away. "Why is casual sex a guy’s
answer to every problem?"
He reared back. With one hand he tapped himself on the
chest. "Me? Men? You brought it up!"
"So to speak."
We stared at each other. Then we both burst out
laughing. Tears rolled down our faces, and we both were
gasping for air before we could stop. In between fits of
laughter, Teddie took a big slurp from my abandoned drink.
I thought for a second, then did the same.
We both sat there trying to breathe and fighting the
giggles that threatened to erupt again. Finally, I could
take a deep breath and trust myself not to dissolve into
hysterics.
Teddie had quieted beside me when he turned on his stool
so he was facing me. He pulled my knees around so we were
staggered knee-to-knee, face-to-face.
I started to say something, but the look on his face
stopped me. The laughter had disappeared, replaced by
something else.
Holding my hands in one of his, he reached up with the
other, running his fingers over my cheek. Slowly he traced
my jaw. I gasped as he brushed his thumb lightly over my
lips.
Then he kissed me.
His lips felt soft, yet insistent, exciting. A long
forgotten feeling stirred inside me. I wanted to resist,
then I didn’t want to. Thoughts and emotions tumbled.
I kissed him back.
The world disappeared.
He pulled back. His lips next to my ear, he
whispered, "Lucky, my love. I’ll make love to you anytime
you want, and I can assure you, it will not be casual."
With that, he backed off his stool and strolled away.
Trying to catch my breath, I watched him go. I sat
perfectly still as my heart pounded.
What had gotten into him? And me? I felt a grin tickle
my lips. Typical guy. Where finesse was needed, brute
force was applied. Why dismantle a wall brick by brick
when you can run a bulldozer right through it?
Then my smile faded as reality reared its ugly head. I
liked my life just the way it was. I liked my friendship
with Teddie, our ease around each other. Sex just
complicated things. I didn’t want complicated. Especially
not with Teddie.
Teddie dodged a group of women who all turned and looked
at him, their admiration evident, their lust poorly
concealed. He seemed oblivious as he walked down the
steps, out of the bar, and shouldered right past Paxton
Dane.
Dane didn’t watch Teddie as he left. Instead he stared
right at me.
Terrific. I whirled around to face the bar.
Dane parked himself on the empty stool recently vacated
by Teddie. "Wasn’t that that Theodore guy we saw earlier?
You told Mr. Jones that Theodore had had a late night, then
he showed up. Right?"
"Yup." I refused to look at Dane. This day had morphed
from just plain weird to totally out of control. My hand
shook as I brushed my hair out of my eyes.
"How’d you know he had a late night?"
"He was coming in as I was leaving this morning."
"You live together?"
"Yeah." I gave Dane the wickedest smile I could
muster. "Same building."
He seemed to accept that. "Bartender, give me a Bud
light." Dane rooted around in his pocket.
I put my hand on his arm, stopping him. "Sean, put the
beer on my tab."
"You got it." Sean grabbed a bottle out of the cooler,
twisted off the cap, then slid it down the bar where it
stopped, still upright, in front of Dane. Amazed, I
wondered how much practice that skill had taken.
Dane grabbed the bottle, tipped it in my
direction. "Thanks." He took a long pull. "You’re having
quite a day, Ms. O’Toole. You blow the head off a snake,
making fools out of all the men in the room, by the way.
Then you make out with your boyfriend in the bar. Then,
when he leaves, you buy another guy a drink. Impressive."
"He’s just a friend."
"You treat your friends well. Where can I sign up?"
"It’s a select list—hand picked. Very difficult to earn
your way on."
"I like a challenge."
I gave him what I hoped was a dirty look as I pushed
myself to my feet. "None of this is any of your business.
And I don’t’ like being thought of as a game you’re going
to play."
"I’m very good at games." Leaving the bottle on the bar,
he rose. He stood close to me, too close. I started to
take a step back, but he grabbed my arm, holding me tight
against him. "Want to play?"
"Does that line really work for you?" I raised my eyes
to meet his. "What is up with all you men today? Is it a
full moon? Did you overdose on testosterone? What?" I
slapped his hand away. "I’ve been assaulted enough today."
He stepped back as if stung. "Excuse me."
"Damned straight. And a simple ‘I’m sorry’ will do."
"I’m sorry." He looked chagrined and half mad, a weird
combination. "I really am. I don’t know what got into
me. Seeing you with that guy…" He looked as confused as I
felt.
"Dane, go home. Your shift is over. It’s been a long…
weird…day. Get some sleep. God knows there won’t be much
time for rest later in the week."
Absentmindedly, he nodded. "Yeah, you’re right. See you
tomorrow. You’ll be here?"
"I’ll be here."
If I didn’t shoot myself first.